Library Board Meeting

On Monday the beleaguered Winnetka-Northfield Library had its October Board Meeting. I’m sharing some of the public comments.

Alfie (1966)

alfie.jpg

I’ve seen the 1966 Alfie before, but that was long ago and the film was well worth re-watching. Michael Caine plays a confirmed philanderer Alfie Elston, who shares his rather silly views on women and life directly with the audience throughout the film. The humor comes from Alfie’s preposterous ideas about women. Because he’s so daft, I felt sorry for him even though he left a train of pain in his wake.

It’s hard to keep track of all of Alfie’s liaisons, but his first main girlfriend was a cute, but mousy girl who decides to have his baby and raise it on her own. In spite of his cavalier philosophy, Alfie forms a bond with little boy. When the girlfriend decides to marry her dull, but reliable suitor to better her lot, Alfie’s soon forgotten. He’s surprised how much that hurts.

Yet he continues on with his womanizing. Women let him. He’d run from any commitment. He takes up with a sexy older woman played by Shelley Winters.

Though he’s so selfish and immature, there are times when Alfie’s rather kind — in his way. When he gets a spot on his lung and is confined to a sanitarium, he befriends his roommate and generously shares his useless advice. As only Alfie could do, he manages to seduce his roommate’s wife and still have the audience like him.

Yet there are consequences and Alfie meets his comeuppance, which gives the film its moral message.

I liked Alfie’s asides to the audience, which were both witty and foolish. I thought the film entertained while showing the real consequences of poor decisions. The film was remade on 2004, but I doubt I’d find it as charming as this version.

 

 

 

Poem of the Week

Sonnet 73

By William Shakespeare

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish’ d by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.